The Adventures of Joanna McCoy
by classicdoctorwhorocks
Summary: Leonard McCoy hates space. We all know how he ended up there for five years, and its initials are JTK, for James Tiberius Kirk. But... what about his six-year-old daughter?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

Leonard McCoy was angry. Very angry indeed. He strode down the corridor, hypo and all, as the people passing him melted into the background as best they could, sensing Trouble. Trouble, as in Trouble with a capital 'T'. Usually the sort of trouble involving a certain starship captain.

The stocky medical officer ground to a halt next to the nearest Jeffries Tube. Inside he could hear the muffled silence which came with somebody holding their breath. He smiled slightly, and stuck his head in, twisting his neck so he was looking up the ladder.

'JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK!' He bellowed. 'I know you're in there!' There was a moment's silence, before there was a loud 'clang!' followed by a string of curses.

'Ya kiss yer mother with that mouth?' McCoy commented, as a fair-haired man lowered himself down in resignation. Kirk smiled weakly at the doctor.

'Geez, Bones. Can you smell me or something?'

'Dammit Jim! I'm a doctor, not a greyhound!'

'Yeah, I thought so,' Kirk muttered.

'I heard that!'

'You were meant to!'

'God, I've never met somebody who makes such a fuss about a teensy little vaccine!'

'That "teensy little vaccine" could go through my arm, it's so long!'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah!'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah!'

'Yeah?'

'Oh, shut up.' They glared at each other for a few seconds, before McCoy gave up negotiating, and produced his hypo with an evil smirk.

Kirk dodged the outstretched hand with ease, but was not expecting the hypo coming in from the other side… from McCoy's other hand. The device gave a hiss as it deposited its contents into Jim's bloodstream.

The captain somehow managed to turn 'OWGODDAMMIT!' into one syllable.

'There we are, that wasn't so bad, was it?' McCoy grinned, and slipped the hypo back into his belt. He had a compartment reserved especially for his captain's overdue medication.

'I hate you,' Jim muttered peevishly.

'Right back at ya,' the country doctor said, grinning again.

'I take it Joanna is calling tonight?'

'How the heck d'you know that?' McCoy demanded.

'Cos it's just about the only day in the year when you're cheerful.'

'You'd be cheerful too if you were seeing _your _daughter for the first time since we set off on this damn mission six months ago. An' judging by your history, you've probably got kids all over the galaxy.'

'Ouch.' Jim grimaced. 'Anyway, we're going back to Earth for basic repairs next week, can't you wait for a few days to see her?'

'If you had a kid like her, you wouldn't either. Anyhow, it was her birthday yesterday, and she wanted me to take her to Disneyworld. Not that that's possible, when the ex-bitch will only let me see her through a god-damned screen…' He looked straight ahead gloomily. Jim attempted to break the silence.

'How old is she now?'

'Six.' The word he had just uttered finally broke through to McCoy. 'Oh my God, she's bloody _six! She is now six full, three-hundred and sixty-five day long years old!''_

'Alright Bones, don't get too excited. Just wait till she's ten.'

'Oh my God, _TEN!'_

'Jesus.' Jim rolled his eyes. 'How's Scotty by the way?'

'The bastard's fine.' McCoy rolled his eyes. 'For the only guy in a red shirt who hasn't been killed at least once yet, he manages to catch stuff which would be impossible for anyone else. I mean, Mogadorian measles, really? The Mogadorians are meant to be extinct, for God's sake!'

'Hm. Well, at least he's stopped hallucinating. The look on your face when he thought you were one of his ex-girlfriends-'

'Shaddup,' Bones said, his face turning purple. Jim smirked.

'Take it easy, Bones. After all, it's not every day you're told by a Chief Engineer with a fever of 106 that you have eyes like two pools of-'

'I'll expect you in my office next week for your immunization,' McCoy interrupted, pretending he hadn't heard. 'And if you don't turn up, then I will be seriously pissed off. I'm getting' too old for this.' He about-faced, and strode off down the deserted corridor, Jim's sniggers just reaching his ears.

McCoy did not die of shock when he was commed by the bridge. No massive surprise. He wondered which part of Jim he'd have to do surgery on, as he flipped his communicator open. God, he hated those things. They were hard to open if your hands were slippery with grease, blood, or something even more sickening. Chekov had been working on a Comm-Badge, shaped like the Starfleet symbol. All you had to do was press the badge, and speak clearly within ten yards of the device. This plan had been abandoned after McCoy had almost died of terror when Chekov was practicing badge-comming people on the Bridge with a prototype. Well, it wasn't _his _fault he'd mistaken it for heart failure! And whose smart idea was it to put the logo on the left side, anyway?

He held the flip-phone to his ear. "What?"

"Doctor McCoy?" Uhura. Weird. He hardly ever got called by communications officers. More often Science or Engineering. "We need you on the Bridge. There's something we think you should see. Now."


	2. Chapter 2

McCoy exited the turbolift with the appropriate sense of dread. He instinctively turned to look at the black expanse of space which the two helmsmen were navigating through. There was nothing out there as far as he could see. He could see the moon, which was oddly comforting. Howver, this did nothing to calm his apprehension. Whatever Uhura was worried about, it was invisible at least to him.

'Okay, what's the problem?' He said, looking in question at the lieutenant. Uhura, being Uhura, did not beat around the bush.

'According to our sensors, you are currently in Georgia.' She said plainly.

'Huh?'

'A couple of minutes ago, we decided to track your communicator, to see if you'd managed to ca- erm, inform the Captain of his missed appointment.' Uhura corrected hastily. McCoy snorted. 'When we did this, we found two signals, one from you, and one from another communicator which is presumably yours. One whose owner is currently wandering around in the middle of nowhere in your homeplace.'

'Of course…' McCoy breathed. 'Last time I visited Jocelyn's house, I left my transporter in the spare bedroom. I had to get another one. They both have my ID on them. Can I see the other one?'

'Of course, doctor.' Uhura led McCoy to her station, where she'd zoomed in on the part of America which he had been able to pinpoint on a map since he was six: Georgia. Squinting at the screen, he could see a small dot flashing about three miles from the lonely farmhouse where Jocelyn lived with Clayford. Just above it, his name and vitals were displayed.

'My God,' he said slowly. 'Whoever nicked my transporter has either been run over by a truck, or been in one hell of a fight. And the weight- no. No, surely not.'

'What is it doctor?'

'Beam 'em up. I have to make a call.' Uhura looked puzzled, but turned back to patch through a call to the transporter room.

Bones went outside into the corridor where nobody could hear him, then put a number into his communicator which he'd never had to use before. Jocelyn's.

It trilled a couple of times, before Jocelyn answered. He could hear a foul song blaring in the background.

'Clay, is that you?' Her voice was slurred, and he could almost smell the alcohol oozing from every orifice of her body.

'Josie!' He barked, not bothering to correct his thickening Southern accent. 'Where's Jo?'

'Oh, it'sh you. Joanna'sh in her room, playing. She doeshn't want to shpeak to you, Leonard.' She said, the iciness cutting through the cheap alcohol like a knife.

'I don' take that crap no more, Jocelyn. Anyway, I know you left her with Clay. How long have you been in that bar?'

'It's nunna yer business.'

'My _daughter's _my business, you hag!' He yelled into the device. 'Perhaps you'd like to explain why my daughter is wandering around in the Georgian countryside half dead! She's the only kid for miles around, so don't try to cover it up.'

'You don' know that.'

Giving a growl of frustration, he hung up, and headed to the transporter room, all guns blazing.

'How long till the kid's beamed up, Ensign?' He asked Chekov, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable level. He guessed they were using him because of his skill with the transporter. They couldn't afford to mess up an emergency transport.

'Just a second, doctor. Vould you kike to vatch, Dora?' Seven-year-old Dora stood on her tippy-toes, watching her guardian adjust the controls.

About three months before, Dora had been rescued from the ship Serendipity, without the ability to speak. Scotty, with some perseverance and sign-language, had become a surrogate parent, and had even cut down on his previously seemingly uncontrollable swearing. The change in Scotty's behavior was welcomed, as he had been previously mourning his Roylan friend Keenser's death. Luckily, he did not seem to view Dora as a replacement, and treated her much more respectfully than he had Keenser, who he'd referred to fondly as 'that little cabbage-headed bastard'.

He watched as the transporter bay was engulfed in light energy, which took the form of a small child. Hardly daring to breathe, he ran up to the body, and pulled aside the dark hair which covered the child's face.

The small girl bore a surprising resemblance to McCoy, although she'd acquired her mother's delicate eyebrows and button nose. The surgeon had to repress the bile rising in his throat, as he saw the cut on her cheek, and the bruising visible on her neck and arms, which her T-shirt and tattered jeans were unable to hide. He heard a sound of shock, as Chekov hurriedly turned Dora's face away.

Amazingly, the girl's swollen eyes opened slightly, then widened as she saw him. She opened her mouth, as if to try and say something, but nothing came out.

'Shh. Yeah, it's me, baby girl. C'mon, you're not there anymore. That's right.' He drew her upper body up, and she pressed herself fiercely into his torso. He could feel her ribs, and the heat radiated off her little body. 'Who did this to you, darlin'?'

'Why didn't you come?' She choked into his shirt. 'I called for you, but you didn't come.'

'I'm here from you now. Sh-sh-sh…' He looked up at Chekov, but he shook his head, Dora still clutched to his chest.

He understood the meaning. He had a job to do.

'Okay, Jo. I'm gonna lift you. Just give a holler if it hurts too bad, okay?' He heaved her up into his arms, noting that her weight was dangerously low, even for a child. Her head lolled. He gently lifted her eyelids, and saw that she had fallen unconscious from the pain.

'I'll inform zhe Keptin,' Chekov said quickly.

'Thanks. I'll alert Chapel.' He used one free hand to grab his communicator, and struggled to open it.

'McCoy to Chapel,' he said quietly. 'One injured, severe injuries. To be examined on arrival.'

/

When he arrived, Chapel was looking expectant. He watched her face morph to shock at the sight of the girl in his arms. She quickly clicked back into 'professional mode' as she took the child from him.

'Does she need surgery?'

'Dermal regenerator, and she may have broken ribs.'

'Do you know her name? Can we contact her parents?' McCoy breathed in deeply. They were going to find out eventually.

'No need,' he said shortly. 'This is Joanna Maria McCoy. She's my daughter.'

**Hi. Just to say, I've decided to discontinue the other Star Trek fic 'Words Unspoken', because it just doesn't seem to want to shape itself into a structured storyline. However, I hope to make Dora friends with Joanna (Yes, she does stay on the ship!), and possibly explore her and Scotty's relationship some more along the way.**

**Although it's nice to see how many people are following this story, it's always nice to receive some constructional criticism, or an encouraging word through a review.**


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